


The Worst of Times

by malinaldarose (coralysendria)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Doppelganger, Gen, Mind Meld, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/pseuds/malinaldarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took more than a transfusion to save Kirk....  Set during and after <i>Star Trek Into Darkness</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst of Times

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Secret Twin / Doppelganger (more the latter than the former) square on my Trope Bingo (Round 2) card. Unfortunately, it is miles away from anything else on the card, so I don't think a bingo is, if you'll pardon the pun (and even if you won't), in the cards.
> 
> Betaed by the incomparable Bethynyc, to whom I owe many, many, many cookies.

Part I

Spock was composing himself for meditation when the computer's chime announced an incoming call. His brother, with whom he shared quarters, answered; Spock's hearing was no longer quite sharp enough to decipher words in the low rumble of Sybok's voice. He had been restless all day, ever since word had reached New Vulcan of the archive bombing in London and subsequent attack on the Daystrom Institute in San Francisco on Earth. A Vulcan did not pace, but Spock had spent his life around first humans, and later Romulans, beings that expressed their emotions, and he was wise enough to admit that sometimes the physical activity helped to release tension. He had opted, nevertheless, to go the Vulcan route. Sybok had rolled his eyes, but refrained from giving his opinion on the matter.

Spock had been gratified to learn that in this changed timeline, his first captain, Christopher Pike, had fared better than the man he had known. By this time in his own past, Pike, voiceless and paralyzed, had been confined by an accident to a mobile life-support unit. Pike had been his first human friend, and he had risked much for his former captain, including the loss of Jim Kirk's friendship. He found it puzzling that in the casualty list from the Daystrom attack, Pike was listed as the captain of the _Enterprise_ , a ship which had been under Jim Kirk's command for some time.

He suspected he was about to learn the reason for his unease, and, indeed, Sybok tapped at his door. "The call is for you, Spock. I've routed it to your terminal. It's...well, you'll see."

Which told him all he needed to know about the origin of the call. He moved to his desk and activated his terminal.

"Mr. Spock," his young -- so very young -- counterpart greeted him.

"Mr. Spock," he replied, with a touch of whimsy. Although he maintained an attitude of polite query, he cataloged the condition of the bridge -- and its lack of captain. Commander Spock was in the center chair with McCoy hovering behind him, practically wringing his hands with worry. Chekov was also absent and the bridge showed signs of damage. Something truly serious had prompted this call.

"I will be brief," Commander Spock said. "In your travels did you ever encounter a man named Khan?"

And there it was. Spock did not look away from the screen, did not betray his perturbation by so much as the flicker of an eyelid, but calculations flew through his mind -- last reported position of the _Enterprise_ , the remembered coordinates where the _Botany Bay_ had been found adrift, time to get from one position to the other, his and Kirk's relative ages in this new timeline -- and presented him with one conclusion. It was too early for the _Enterprise_ to have found the _Botany Bay_ adrift in deep space, its genetically engineered crew in cryogenic suspension. In this changed history, the first of the five-year deep space exploration missions had not yet begun. Someone else, therefore, had found Khan and awakened him.

His face settled into deep lines as he responded. "As you know, I have made a vow never to give you information that could potentially alter your destiny. Your path is yours to walk and yours alone." 

Commander Spock was not yet so accomplished at suppressing his emotions as he thought; Spock easily read his desperation. The thought crossed his mind that Sarek -- his Sarek -- would not approve. For a moment, he considered holding to his vow, but the remembered pain of radiation poisoning, the grief in Jim's voice, the ultimate cost in lives of his resurrection, persuaded him otherwise. If he could spare them this, then duty dictated that he must. The needs of the many...Jim would have approved.

"That being said," he continued gravely, "Khan Noonien Singh is the most dangerous adversary the _Enterprise_ ever faced. He is brilliant, ruthless, and he will not hesitate to kill every single one of you."

"Did you defeat him?" Commander Spock asked, almost vibrating with urgency,though only another Vulcan would see it.

"At great cost, yes." Mr. Scott's nephew and the other trainees. Jim's guilt. The ghost of pain. He was blind and dying, but the mains were back online.

Commander Spock didn't move, didn't so much as twitch, but to the elder Spock, it was as if he leaned forward eagerly. "How?"

Spock countered with a question of his own. "What is your current situation, Commander?"

"We are heavily damaged. Khan has killed Admiral Marcus and is holding Dr. Marcus, Engineer Scott, and the captain hostage aboard the _Vengeance_. He wishes to exchange them for six dozen photon torpedoes which contain the cryotubes in which his crew yet sleep."

Spock considered this. He already knew what Jim would have done. "We encountered Khan twice," he said after a moment. "In our first encounter, Khan tried to take the _Enterprise_ , and nearly succeeded. The captain exiled Khan and his people to Ceti Alpha V. Our second encounter was. . . less successful. Where before, Khan had merely wanted to establish his kingdom, now he was consumed by the need for revenge against Captain Kirk. There were several times he could have broken off from his course and escaped, especially with the damage to the _Enterprise_. Each time, however, he renewed his attack, finally following the _Enterprise_ into a situation which allowed Captain Kirk to gain the upper hand, leading to Khan's death." And mine, he did not say.

"Khan is highly intelligent," Commander Spock said. "Such behavior is not logical."

"No," Spock agreed. "It is not. But Khan is deeply passionate and highly committed to his own people. And he very much wanted Kirk."

Commander Spock's eyebrow rose. Spock found that he could still experience the great satisfaction of a teacher when faced with a brilliant pupil, a feeling he had thought lost after Valeris' betrayal.

"Thank you," Commander Spock said. " _Enterprise_ out."

Spock remained at his desk after the transmission ended, gazing at the viewscreen without seeing it. "Computer," he said, after a short time, "display footage of Starfleet archive bombing, London, Earth."

"Accessing." The footage appeared onscreen. His eyes narrowed as he picked Khan immediately out of the chaos. Khan. On Earth, and dressed in a Starfleet uniform. Spock leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him. After the destruction of the _Narada_ , he had had a series of interviews with the Starfleet admiralty and the Federation President. As a former Starfleet officer, he had felt it his duty to give them certain information: on Talos IV, on the Borg, on the _Botany Bay_. Clearly someone had acted on his information. Someone -- probably Admiral Marcus -- had brought Khan back to Earth. Spock's eyes closed. This was his fault. And now the _Enterprise_ was at risk again, because of his actions. Perhaps he should have retired to a monastery after all. An unproductive notion, but occasionally attractive.

He found himself possessed of a need to know what was happening. He could take ship to wherever the _Enterprise_ was, but he would arrive days too late. Obviously, he could not tie up communications channels. But there was one method open to him.

All Vulcans were telepathic to some degree. The Vulcan mind meld was well-enough known to have become an entertainment vid cliché. Spock had been highly proficient with the touch-based meld by the time he joined Starfleet. But that was not the only method for establishing telepathic contact with another mind. His half-brother Sybok had often performed variations of the meld without touch, had, in fact, once used his abilities to facilitate hijacking the _Enterprise_. Spock had, in latter years, studied and mastered the technique. The meld would be difficult across such distance; he would thus require a familiar mind. Young Commander Spock was the logical choice.

Spock rose from his desk, his course decided. He made his way first to the dwelling's main room where his half-brother was occupied with a book. Sybok looked up at Spock's approach and a smile crossed his mobile features. "Spock! You were right about this Earth literature. It is extremely enjoyable. This Charles Dickens was a master of subtle humor."

Spock nodded. "I suspected you would find his writings to your taste. At any other time, I would find a discussion of his literary merits quite stimulating, but at the moment, there is something to which I must attend. I will require an hour of undisturbed time."

Sybok frowned, but only nodded. "Of course, Spock."

"Thank you." Spock turned and made his way back to his sleeping quarters. He sensed Sybok's thoughtful gaze on his straight back, but a sense of great urgency gripped him. Time...time was running short. He closed his door, but did not lock it; Sybok would honor his requst. On his bed, he composed himself once more for meditation, quieting his mind. Then he _reached_. . .

. . .and joined with a mind in turmoil. Anger, fear, resignation. . .all resolved into a single sense of _purpose_. Spock had found, not Commander Spock, but James T. Kirk's mind.

He supposed it was inevitable; he had, after all, joined with young Kirk's mind on Delta Vega, and for all the changes wrought to this timeline by first the _Narada's_ presence and then his own, James T. Kirk was still James T. Kirk, and in some ways, Spock knew Jim Kirk's mind better than he knew his own.

He allowed himself to be carried along with Kirk. He experienced the young captain's fear when he realized the stricken _Enterprise_ was dying and his crew with her, that there was only one way to save both crew and ship.

_Is there anything you would not do for your family?_ Khan's voice ghosted through his memory, and with that, Kirk's thoughts steadied. "You're not making the climb," he said to Scotty, and Spock felt with his own fist the blow that rendered the engineer unconscious. Kirk settled Scotty in a chair, and turned away.

_Emergency restraints,_ Spock whispered in his mind, just as Kirk turned back to activate them. If the _Enterprise_ rolled again, Scotty would not be injured.

Kirk took a deep breath and flung himself through the airlock into the irradiated warp core.

_Is there anything you would not do for your family?_

For Kirk, the journey was a nightmare race against physics and the failure of his own dying body. Though the radiation had, at first, seemed like gentle warmth, it did not take long for the heat to become a burning, a flame that surged through his body with every beat of his heart. Death was not far off now, but he had to ensure that the couplings were realigned before he went, else the ship and the entire rest of the crew would shortly be joining him.

_Is there anything you would not do for your family?_ The mantra kept Kirk moving.

For Spock, Kirk's struggle through the Jeffries tubes into the warp core was an eerie reminder of his own long-ago struggle to get the _Enterprise_ 's warp engines back online. Then, it had been a race against the countdown of the Genesis torpedo, now it was the Earth's gravity itself. There was little he could do for Kirk other than bear witness, but Vulcan disciplines included techniques for distancing oneself from pain. Spock layered his own self between Kirk and the impulses surging along his nerves. 

Kirk reached the misaligned warp housing, and Spock felt his dismay. He was not an engineer; he'd had no idea of the size of the thing. He could see no way to fix it, and he had no tools. He studied the housing, though, and saw how it could be done. He jumped, and began swinging himself against the structure, battering at it with all the strength that remained to him, while, unsensed, Spock did what he could to hold back the ravages to Kirk's body. He lost count of the number of times his feet impacted the surface of the coupling; when it finally slipped back into place, he could no longer feel his feet or legs.

Even as he did his best to blunt Kirk's awareness of the pain of his radiation-damaged body, Spock reflected on the notion of destiny. What forces had -- twice now -- brought the _Enterprise_ and her crew into conflict with Khan Noonien Singh? Both times, Khan had seized a Federation ship, though Spock could see from Kirk's memories that the damage inflicted on the _Enterprise_ had come at Admiral Marcus's order. Something else to be laid at his own door.

Sybok, Spock knew, would ascribe both conflicts to the hand of Fate. Sybok might not necessarily be mistaken, Spock thought.

The housing was realigned, the core back online. Kirk was unconscious from the impact when the surge of energy flung him against the chamber's wall. Spock almost left him. Almost. First, however, there was something else that must be done. After all these decades, he had an understanding of human reactions. Mr. Scott would be devastated if he had to send technicians in radiation gear into the core to retrieve the captain's body. No, there was one more effort to be made before Kirk could rest.

_Awaken_ , Spock whispered, manipulating energy in the captain's body.

A whimper escaped the captain's lips. He had not expected to awaken again. He rolled over slowly, staring up at the energy flowing through the realigned coupling. Bottled lightning. A fitting closing bracket for a life that had begun during a lightning storm in space. It was beautiful, and he could stay here and watch it forever, but it slowly dawned on him that if he stayed here, someone would have to come in to retrieve his body. Messy. Scotty wouldn't want some nasty old corpse mucking up his engines. He rolled over again and got his hands and knees under him and slowly and painfully heaved himself to his feet.

Spock stayed with Kirk, helping him as much as he could, until the young captain reached the airlock. There, his great reserves finally gave out, and he slid down the airlock's outer door to rest on the floor.

"Jim!" Mr. Scott cried through the intercom. "Jim!"

Kirk tensed, afraid that his friend would open the airlock door, but Scotty knew what it would mean, since the inner door remained open.

"Hey, Scotty," Jim said. He said nothing more.

Spock understood -- none better -- what Kirk was experiencing. He determined that he would stay with Kirk. He had not been able to stay with his own Jim; duty had precluded it. Picard had written to him, but it didn't change the fact that he had not been present when his greatest friend died. He had an opportunity here to atone for that. There was a delicate line in a deep meld with a dying mind; one had to be careful not to be dragged along into death. It occurred to Spock, then, that even though they were both unprepared he might catch Kirk's _katra_ and therefore save the essence of the captain. 

Suddenly his young counterpart was outside the glass; Jim reached up and closed the inner door to complete the decontam process. He knew how short his time was; knew the cycle would not complete before he died. He would not have to suffer through attempts to keep his ravaged body alive.

Spock bore silent witness to the final exchange between the two, but when Kirk expressed his fear, Spock could stay silent no longer.

His thoughts unfurled like a hand holding Kirk's. _I am here._

_Spock?_

_Yes. You are not alone, my old friend. Now or ever._

Kirk understood, then, that this was not his Spock, not the one with whom he had been, despite recent setbacks, building a solid friendship. But he was grateful for the contact. And then he was gone.

Spock reached after him, to catch his _katra_ , but the young man's spirit was just beyond his reach. He forged onward, nevertheless....

A hand grabbed his, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. He opened his eyes.

"Did you really think," Sybok said wryly, "that I wouldn't notice what you were doing?"

~*~

Part II

Spock took ship for Earth the following morning. Even if he could do nothing more than stand by at the funeral, he meant to be there. His status as Elder and ambassador meant that there was always a ship at his disposal. Sybok remained behind; Commander Spock had not yet been able to reconcile himself with his half-brother. Spock understood; he had wrestled with the same thoughts and resentments. Sybok had thrown away the status and privilege that both Spocks had had to fight for. The elder Spock, however, had come to an understanding of his half-brother, and might even have come to be true friends with him, had Sybok not sacrificed himself on the nameless planet at the center of the galaxy. It was in the spirit of this that Spock had sought Sybok out in this timeline and brought him home to New Vulcan.

His ship slipped into a berth in the Vulcan section of a commercial spacedock. He had come out of warp in such a way as to be able to make a wide arc around the Starfleet spacedock. He allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes at the extent of the damage to the _Enterprise_ , but then he forced them open again, taking in every detail in order to honor the crewmembers who had lost their lives.

"Computer," he said, as the automatic moorings pulled the ship snugly into the dock, "locate Commander Spock."

"Commander Spock is at Starfleet Medical," the computer responded.

"Please notify him of my presence and desire to speak with him at his convenience," Spock requested.

"Working," the computer replied. "Commander Spock will meet you in front of the hospital as soon as you have completed docking."

"Signal my assent." The business of registering with the Vulcan dockmaster took very little time. If she was pleased to see another Vulcan, she neither commented upon it, nor otherwise indicated such pleasure. She merely handed Spock the registration chit and directed him to the nearest transporter station. Ten minutes later, Spock materialized in front of Starfleet Medical.

The hospital occupied a quiet corner of the Starfleet Headquarters campus. The extensive damage to the city of San Francisco caused by the crash of the _Vengeance_ was not visible from here. In the few days since the crash, planetary air purifiers had been hard at work to remove the smoke and ash from the atmosphere; the air smelled like ozone.

Spock's young counterpart was waiting at some distance away on the lawn before the hospital, standing ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture that Spock himself still favored. His face was green with bruises, but his blue uniform was impeccable. Spock raised an eyebrow at that. He had expected to find the commander garbed in the gold of command, not the blue of science.

"He is alive," the commander said as soon as Spock was within hearing range. 

The elder Spock almost -- almost -- smiled. He remembered a time he had thought Jim dead, when he had grabbed him and whirled him around with a whoop when he found out otherwise. But this was not his Jim, and such a display would only serve to embarrass the commander.

"That is most welcome news," he said, instead. "I would be gratified to learn how."

"Dr. McCoy discovered that Khan's blood has regenerative properties."

"Fascinating. That is a discovery that we did not make in our time, though, of course, our second encounter with Khan took place aboard separate vessels after he had commandeered the _Reliant_."

"He is alive," the commander repeated, "but in a coma. He saved the ship, but -- as you said -- at great cost."

Something must have shown in Spock's eyes then, because the commander straightened, if possible, even further. "You. It was you, in your timeline. You died."

Spock nodded. "Yes. Getting the warp engines back online."

"Then how?"

"He returned me to Vulcan where the Rite of Fal-tor-pan was performed."

The commander was silent a moment. "I am only beginning to learn about this friendship of which you spoke to me once before." He hesitated a moment, then went on. "I experienced such rage when he died. I went after Khan with the intention of murdering him with my bare hands. Only McCoy's fortuitous discovery stopped me."

"I do not need to repeat that which you already know, but you appear to require the reminder. No matter what outsiders think, Spock, Vulcans are a deeply passionate race. It is only the discipline of logic that keeps Vulcan passions in check; but there are times when logic fails. Jim would say, 'Don't beat yourself up about it, Spock.' In this instance, he is correct."

Commander Spock raised an eyebrow. "He would then add that I have sufficient bruises at the moment."

Only a Vulcan would have seen the smile on the elder Spock's face. "He would, indeed. I trust Dr. McCoy has seen to your injuries?"

The commander nodded. "He has."

"You may have confidence in the good doctor's skills. Jim is in excellent hands."

"Would you like to see him?"

"I would," Spock replied. He followed the younger Vulcan into the hospital.

Jim was in an isolation ward, away from the other patients. The two Spocks stopped in front of the observation window, both studying the biobed readouts before looking down at the comatose young captain. His skin was waxen, the elder Spock saw, his eyes sunken. He might still be mistaken for dead, if the readouts didn't say otherwise.

"Why is he in isolation?"

"In case something goes wrong," a Southern-tinged voice said behind them. "We're in uncharted waters here, and there are no guarantees. For all we know, Jim might decide to explode at any second."

Spock and the commander turned at the same time, evincing no surprise at seeing the white-clad doctor behind them. "Commander," he said, "I thought I told you to go home and get some rest."

Commander Spock nodded. "You did, Doctor, and I will be going momentarily. However, I was waiting for the ambassador, who wished to visit the captain." The doctor did not notice the slight hesitation over the elder Spock's title, probably because he was busy examining the biobed readings himself.

"Ambassador? Doctor McCoy, chief medical officer of the _Enterprise_." He started to extend a hand, then caught himself, realizing that a Vulcan wouldn't normally accept a handshake. He nodded instead. "You know the captain?"

The elder Spock nodded. "Indeed I do, Doctor."

"I didn't know that Jim knew any Vulcans -- other than Spock, of course," McCoy said.

Both Spocks raised their eyebrows. "Indeed, Doctor," the elder said.

McCoy looked from face to face, bemused. "Holy crap" he said. "You're him!"

"Not entirely elegantly put, Doctor, but essentially correct," Spock said. "I would have thought you would have recognized me; you were on the bridge when the commander and I spoke."

McCoy dismissed that with an irritable wave of his hand. "I was otherwise occupied with trying to keep from pissing myself in fear."

"Very colorful, Doctor," Commander Spock said drily.

McCoy ignored that, intent on the elder Spock. "And...where you came from, you and Jim were friends?"

"Yes, Doctor," Spock said gravely. "As were your counterpart and I. It was an often fractious friendship, but friendship nonetheless."

McCoy looked like he was trying to wrap his mind around that concept, and failing. He glanced at the commander, his doubt plain on his face. The commander gazed back at him serenely. 

"So..." he floundered for something to say. "How long will you be staying on Earth?"

"I have not yet determined that," Spock said. "But if I will not be in the way, I will be coming here occasionally. I may be able to help."

"How?" McCoy asked skeptically, just as the commander said, "Of what do you speak?"

Spock glanced back through the observation window. "I do not know how much you know, Doctor, about the Vulcan mind meld."

"Just the basics."

"That will do to start with. I am old, Doctor, and I have had many years to perfect the technique. I was with Jim when he died. I tried to catch his _katra_ \-- tried to preserve his essence -- but was unable to complete that task. He slipped away."

McCoy hmphed. "He's slippery," he acknowledged.

"Indeed. I came to Earth expecting to attend a funeral. However, as the principal is not, in fact, deceased, it is possible that I can reach his mind and help him find his way back to himself. Death is a...shock. He may need help."

McCoy still looked skeptical, but nodded. "I'll leave orders that you should be admitted to his room whenever you come in."

"Thank you, Doctor. Now, if you will please excuse me, I have yet to arrange for quarters."

He left the commander and McCoy standing before the window, gazing at the patient. He had not quite reached the elevator, when he heard the commander coming swiftly up behind him. He pushed the button and entered the car, but waited until the commander had joined him before pressing the button for the ground floor.

"Ambassador, I wished to thank you," the commander said. "Jim confessed to me that he was afraid, just before he died. I wished to thank you for being with him."

Spock nodded. "It was all I could do for him then. Perhaps I may be of more assistance now."

"I do not fully understand the human fear of death, but I believe that you should not dismiss what assistance you were able to give before as not enough. Not knowing that we would be able to revive him, it was a great deal."

"I could argue that as I had intended to save his _katra_ , my efforts were insufficient, but your point is well taken."

The elevator slowed, then stopped. The door opened. "You told Dr. McCoy that you had not yet arranged lodging," the commander said, as Spock stepped through the door. "If you would not find the arrangement objectionable, I would be honored if you would stay with me. My duties will require me to be away from my quarters for much of the time, and I have sufficient room for two people."

Spock inclined his head. "The honor would be mine, commander. Thank you."

~*~

The following morning, Spock arrived at the hospital to find Doctor McCoy already there. Though the biobed readings clearly showed Jim's state, Spock was unsurprised to find McCoy manually measuring the captain's vitals.

"Good morning, Doctor," he said when McCoy noticed him.

"Oh, good morning. I didn't expect you quite so early."

"There is, as the saying goes, no time like the present," Spock replied. "Is there any change in the captain's condition?"

McCoy looked back at his patient. "Not really. He's not getting any worse, at least, but he doesn't seem to be getting any better. Brain activity is minimal, and mostly related to autonomic functions. His cells are no longer irradiated. The tribble I injected with Khan's blood didn't seem to suffer any ill effects; she went right back to popping out babies an hour or so later." He turned a skeptical eye on Spock. "You really think you can help?"

"Whether I can help the captain or not remains to be seen, Doctor. I know only that I must try, if for nothing else than the memory of my friend and the possibility for greatness inherent in your friend."

McCoy was silent for a moment, digesting that. "Well, then, what do you need?"

"At the moment, nothing but privacy," Spock said.

McCoy nodded sharply. "I have rounds to make; I'll leave word that no one should disturb you until I return myself in a few hours. Will that do?"

"That will do very well, Doctor."

"I'll, uh, leave you to it, then." McCoy edged past Spock, obviously trying not to appear nervous. It was clear, however, that he wasn't quite sure how to behave around the ambassador. The door slid shut behind him, leaving Spock alone with Jim.

"Computer, blank the observation window." 

The window turned opaque, giving Spock true privacy. There was a single metal-and-plastic-framed chair meant for the patient's next-of-kin; but Spock knew that Winona Kirk was still on Deneva with Jim's elder brother. He left the chair in the corner; it was too low for his purposes. He moved to the left side of the bed, reached over with his right hand and positioned long fingers on the nerve points along the side of Jim's head. He had melded with Kirk's mind from scores of parsecs away, but physical contact would not only strengthen the bond, but provide a real-world anchor if Kirk was, indeed, lost. He pressed lightly, initiating the meld.

In Kirk's mind, he found only emptiness. The body lived, but the _katra_ \-- the _soul_ , as the humans would have it -- was not there. _The lights are on, but no one's home,_ McCoy's sardonic tones reverberated in the emptiness. A memory of his own, not Jim's.

He had hoped this would be a simple matter, but he had prepared for it to be otherwise. Spock's eyes closed as he rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and "got down to business," as Jim would say.

By the time he ended the meld, slowly pulling back into his own mind, he sensed that some hours had passed. He stretched slightly cramped fingers as he pulled his hand back from Jim's face. He straightened before turning to the occupant of the visitor's chair.

"I am not familiar with the techniques you were using," Commander Spock said, getting to his feet and offering the chair to the ambassador.

"No," the elder Spock agreed. "You would not be." He acknowledged the commander's offer, but did not sit.

"Is this some variant of the Rite of Fal-tor-pan? You said that you had undergone that yourself."

"No. These are Sybok's techniques, Spock. After our brother died, I studied his work."

"Sybok is not dead."

"No, indeed," Spock agreed. "In this time, here, now, he is not. In my time, he did not return to Vulcan. He died apostate, sacrificing himself to save the lives of the captain, Doctor McCoy, and myself."

The commander considered this. The biobed whirred and beeped quietly in the background. "Then by bringing Sybok to New Vulcan, you have created another paradox," he said, "and possibly endangered our future existences."

"Ah," Spock replied, "but by bringing Sybok home, I have prevented the events which caused him to endanger our lives to begin with."

"I did not come here to discuss Sybok," the commander said, irritably dismissing the subject of his half-brother. "Were you able to reach the captain?" He looked past the elder Spock to examine the biobed readings. "I do not see any change."

"I was not able to reach him," Spock replied. "There were times when I felt as though there were echoes of him, as though he were there, but just beyond my reach. I will try again."

"You will come home, eat, and rest," Commander Spock said, "and try again tomorrow. You have been here for twelve hours. Even Doctor McCoy has gone home for the evening."

Spock's eyebrow shot into the air at the commander's tone. "Indeed?" he said mildly. "I did not realize it had been so long. Lunch would not be amiss."

"Computer," Commander Spock said, "restore the window to transparency."

The observation window cleared. The commander opened the door and gestured to Spock to precede him. They walked down the corridor and entered the elevator together.

~*~

Spock returned to the hospital the next day, and the next, and the next after that. He spent those days deeply in trance striving to find some echo of Jim Kirk's mind. Logic could not aid him here; logically, the captain should not be alive at all. No, this was an exercise in the deepest illogic: friendship and hope and leaps of faith. A striving outward into the darkness, and a refusal to give up. It was all very...human.

While he thus strove, Kirk's crew held vigil. Not all at once, and not more than one, or occasionally two, at a time, but they were there. Sometimes one or another of them was still there when he broke the meld. He met Nyota Uhura that way; she waited beyond the door, her brows drawn together in concern. Mr. Scott was there one evening, the colorful remains of a spectacular bruise darkening his jaw. Hikaru Sulu and Pavel Chekov came together; friends in this time as they had been in the other. He sensed McCoy's steadfast presence numerous times during the day, while Commander Spock was there every evening to inquire after his success, or lack thereof, and to escort him home. And when she was herself released from the hospital, Carol Marcus joined them.

On the fifth evening, Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy were both waiting for him when he ended the meld and opened his eyes. 

"I will try again tomorrow," was all he said in answer to their questioning looks.

McCoy deflated, but only nodded. He glanced at Commander Spock.

"Admiral Nogura has asked me to convey his desire to speak with you, Ambassador," the commander said.

Spock raised a brow. "Admiral Nogura?" Another name from the past. Nogura had been head of Starfleet when Spock had returned to the _Enterprise_ after failing to attain the discipline of Kolinahr.

"He has been made interim commanding officer of Starfleet," the commander replied.

"He's younger than I am," McCoy said, sourly, moving to the side of the biobed and examining the readouts.

"He is a capable officer," the commander said, "and perhaps a steadier influence than Admiral Marcus. And he is, I believe, two years _older_ than you are, Doctor."

McCoy made a noise which could only be interpreted as a growl and stalked out of the room.

"I did not come here to speak to the admiralty," Spock said. "Nor am I here in any official capacity on behalf of New Vulcan."

"The admiral understands that," the commander said. "He specifically said to tell you that he invites you to take tea with him at his home tomorrow afternoon." He hesitated a moment. "It is my belief that he intends to ask your advice on what to do with Khan and his people."

"Indeed?" Spock considered the matter; he supposed exile to Ceti Alpha V was probably not a good idea. Though with warning, perhaps Ceti Alpha VI could be stabilized.... "I can certainly take the time to congratulate the admiral on his new appointment."

~*~

Heihachiro Nogura's home was outside the metropolitan area; the admiral sent a car for him. The driver, a young woman in a grey Starfleet uniform, was faultlessly polite, but not inclined to make small talk. Spock hardly minded, instead watching the scenery slide by. A long, winding drive led to a neat home tucked into a wooded glen. The house was fronted by a wide porch; the admiral himself was waiting, and when the driver pulled the car up in front of the house, he stepped down and opened the door for Spock.

"Welcome, Ambassador Spock."

"Admiral Nogura." Spock climbed out of the car. The air this far from the city was much purer, smelling of greenery, rather than ozone and ash. 

The admiral leaned into the car. "Kayla, take the car to the garage, if you would. I'll call you when the ambassador is ready to go back to the city."

"Yes, Admiral." She pulled the car out of sight around the side of the house.

"Well, Ambassador. If you'll follow me, I thought we might sit in the garden, if you don't mind."

Spock inclined his head. "Not at all, Admiral."

The admiral turned and led the way down a graveled path behind the house to a gazebo overlooking a small pond. Pink and white lilies graced the surface, and Spock saw the jewel-bright flashes of koi darting beneath. A tea set was waiting on a table in the center of the gazebo, steam rising from the pot.

"Please have a seat, Ambassador." Nogura waited until Spock chose his seat, then sat opposite him. He busied himself for a few moments with the business of pouring tea and offering Spock pastries, then sat back and stared at Spock over the rim of his delicate bone china cup.

Spock merely watched the admiral in his turn, sipping his tea, and waiting for his host to speak.

"You're not going to let me rattle you, eh?" the admiral said with a chuckle.

"I am a Vulcan, sir. I do not 'rattle.'"

The admiral nodded. "Of course not." He put his cup down. "I won't beat around the bush, Ambassador. I know who you are, and I can guess why you're here on Earth. I hope you can help that young man; I knew his father. I also was good friends with Christopher Pike, and he had great faith that Kirk would eventually be one of our greatest officers. But I'm sure you could tell me a thing or two...." His voice trailed off suggestively.

Spock refused to take the bait. "I could, Admiral, but I will not. I will tell you only this: James T. Kirk was my friend. It was my privilege to serve with him aboard the _Enterprise_ , just as it was my privilege to serve with Captain Pike before him." Spock sipped from his very good tea again, then, with barely a sound, set the cup down precisely in the center of the saucer. "Why did you wish to see me, Admiral?"

The admiral sighed. He picked his cup up, but did not drink, merely stared into it a moment before putting it down again. "Ever since the destruction of the _Kelvin_ , but especially since the destruction of Vulcan, Starfleet has gone in a direction of which many did not approve. We were not intended to be primarily a military body; we were intended to be explorers. But Alex Marcus was convinced that the Federation was under constant attack, and the _Vengeance_ was a symptom of that paranoia." He looked at Spock, and his gaze was the piercing stare that Spock remembered. " _You_ are not to blame for this, Spock. You did what you perceived to be your duty as a former Starfleet officer and can only be commended for warning us of certain threats. What Marcus did with that information is in no way your fault. In fact, had I your _proper_ record, I would add two commendations to it. One for what you _did_ warn us of, and one for what you did not. You have not attempted to make Starfleet over into the organization which you remember, and you have not interfered -- much -- with your counterpart's life." His eyes crinkled with his smile. "Don't think I don't know about your urging young Kirk to take command of the _Enterprise_. I don't think you were wrong, mind you; Kirk is a brilliant young man, though lacking in discipline."

"He will learn discipline," Spock said. "James Kirk was always impetuous, but as he grew older, he learned to weigh his options, to think about consequences. If given the chance, he will prove Captain Pike's faith in him."

Nogura lifted his cup. Sipped. "Do you believe that he will survive?"

"I do," Spock said without hesitation. "Doctor McCoy is one of the finest medical practitioners in the Federation. Kirk could be in no better hands."

"And you believe he will wake from this coma with full mental capacity?"

"I do."

"You knew Khan," Nogura said then. "That was one of the warnings you gave the admiralty."

Spock nodded. "Yes, admiral."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Spock considered it. It was over and done, there could be no harm now -- no more harm, anyway -- in telling the admiral what had happened. And furthermore, he found that after so many years he wished to speak of the matter with someone who would be able to grasp why things had happened as they had. He had told Sybok most of his own story, but Sybok could not entirely understand the bonds that formed among those who served aboard a starship. Nogura could. And so he told the admiral about finding the _Botany Bay_. He spoke of Khan Noonien Singh's attempt to take over the _Enterprise_ ; of how he was barely defeated; of how historian Marla McGivers, having betrayed her Starfleet oath and chosen Khan, followed him into exile and was killed. In emotionless tones, he told the admiral the story of how Khan was rediscovered by the crew of the _Reliant_ whilst trying to find a lifeless environment in which to conduct further testing on Project Genesis. He spoke of the final battle in the Mutara Nebula, of Khan's activation of the Genesis device, and of how the _Enterprise_ could not have escaped without his own intervention.

When he finished his account, Nogura sat quietly, staring thoughtfully into the waters of the pond. The koi swam here and there, their only concern the finding of food. Spock finished his tea.

At last the admiral spoke. "I find it astounding that so many of the same factors were at play here. Khan, of course. Carol Marcus, though not in quite the same role. The damage to the _Enterprise_ 's warp drive. Quite astounding."

"If you are interested, Admiral, there are theories which can explain some of this," Spock offered.

The admiral waved his hand. "Perhaps later, Spock. In fact, if you're willing to enter into a correspondence, I'd be only too thrilled to discuss such theories with you. But, at the moment, I have more concrete matters to attend to, such as what to do with Khan and his people."

"And you wish to know my opinion?"

"Yes."

"The original solution, to send the _Botany Bay_ into deep space is clearly not safe," Spock said. "It gets rid of the problem, but only temporarily. This is Khan, and somehow, he would return."

"What do you suggest, then?" Nogura asked. "Kill them? Kill all of them?"

"No," Spock said. "I am certain that there are numerous members of the admiralty who are demanding just that in payment for the lives lost in London and San Francisco. But to follow through would make them no better than Alexander Marcus. Or Khan himself. Captain Kirk's original solution -- exile to a wilderness environment -- does have a certain merit. Find a suitable planet, out of the way of normal travel, with only the simplest of tools and no materials with which to build more sophisticated items, and set them down. I would, of course, suggest proper monitoring."

"Transport them," Nogura murmured. "As the name of their ship implies."

"Indeed. I doubt the admiralty will approve of that suggestion, however. The only other option I can see short of mass murder is to simply keep them in stasis."

"But for how long?"

"Forever, admiral. They are too dangerous to be loosed upon the universe."

Nogura nodded. He lifted his cup and for a long time there was only silence in the gazebo, while the koi darted to and fro in the pond.

~*~

"Jim." Spock's voice whispered into the darkness. "Jim."

Days had passed since his interview with Nogura. Each day, he had reported to Jim's hospital room and striven to find the young captain's _katra_ and return it to his living body. Each day, he had come closer, he was certain. He had felt echoes, followed them. In some ways, he felt as if he reenacted the human myth of Orpheus, who had gone into the underworld to bring his lover Eurydice back to life. He wondered if this was how Jim -- his Jim -- had felt when he had stolen the battered hulk of the _Enterprise_ to search for him on Genesis.

He would not admit it to any of young Kirk's friends and shipmates, but he was weary. Unutterably weary in body and soul. He had been pushing himself for days, eating little, sleeping not nearly enough. The work he was doing was purely mental, but in some ways, it was harder than building a skyscraper with his bare hands. It was only Vulcan disciplines that kept him on task. He suspected his young counterpart knew how close he was to his limit and that was what prompted him to take Spock into his own home and care for him. Such unspoken support was his way of contributing to Spock's self-imposed task.

For a moment, memories intruded on his awareness. _Captain's log,_ Jim's voice whispered in his mind. _The_ Enterprise _is mine again. Christopher Pike...is dead._ The voice broke, and in that instant, Spock realized that it was not his memory that he was hearing.

_Jim._

_Not now, Spock._

_Jim. You must come with me._

_Spock, I'm busy. Whatever it is, handle it._

_Captain. You are needed on the bridge._

_On my way._

In his mind they were suddenly on the bridge of the original Constellation-class _Enterprise_. Spock saw Jim approaching, smiling, clothed in his gold uniform. A quick glance down showed that he was clad in once-familiar Science blue. Jim settled into the command chair, then he and the bridge faded away.

Spock surfaced from the meld to the sound of McCoy's elation. "Look at these readings! Brain function is suddenly up to normal across the board. It's a miracle!"

"There is no such thing, Doctor," Commander Spock replied, "though I have to admit that this certainly seems to qualify."

Spock allowed himself a quiet sigh and a faint smile as he opened his eyes. 

"You did it, man!" McCoy exclaimed. He stopped short of clapping Spock on the back, watching narrow-eyed as the Vulcan straightened. "You look like hell."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock said. "Your opinion is noted. How is the captain?"

"All of his readings suddenly shot up and leveled out at normal. Right now, he's just asleep...." McCoy squinted at a particular marker. "And dreaming."

Spock pushed himself to his feet. "Dreams can be a consequence of the mind meld, Doctor. I believe that I have accomplished my task." He glanced at the readings himself. McCoy was correct; all of Jim's systems were registering as normal. "The captain should wake in due course."

"And you, Ambassador?" the commander asked.

"What of me?"

McCoy moved until he was in front of Spock. "You need sleep yourself," he said bluntly. "Go home with him," he indicated the younger Spock with a jerk of his chin, "and get at least eight hours of sleep."

"I am fine, Doctor, I assure you," Spock replied.

Dissent came from an unexpected quarter. "You are not fine, Ambassador," Commander Spock said. "You are exhausted. The doctor is correct. You need rest."

"Go home, Ambassador," McCoy said. "Or I will admit you as a patient and make sure that you get some sleep." He raised his chin belligerently. "And I do not want to see you back here tomorrow until after noon."

Spock raised a brow; the man sounded exactly like...himself. "Very well, Doctor. I will do as you ask."

"Ask, nothing," McCoy muttered, turning back to the monitors, so that everyone could pretend he hadn't said anything.

~*~

As it happened, Spock was summoned to the hospital slightly earlier than expected: Jim had suddenly awakened and was asking for him. "He looked right at Spock, when he did it, so at first we thought he was having some sort of relapse," McCoy said as he escorted the ambassador from the elevator, "but then he made that face he makes when he thinks other people are being stupid, and said, 'Not you, Spock, Other Spock. You know, _old_ Spock.' How he knew you were here, Ambassador, I do not understand."

"That is a good question, Doctor. He should not remember anything from the meld, but James Kirk has always been strong-minded. _Should_ rarely applies to him."

"Truer words were never spoken," McCoy said as he ushered the ambassador into Kirk's room.

Spock's eyes went first to the biobed readings. Though many of the readings were not optimal, they were all within the normal range. Quite exceptional, really, for someone who had been dead for some hours, and then in a coma for two weeks. He turned his attention to the bed's occupant. Kirk was still pale, but already he looked much better than he had the day before. He smiled a greeting when Spock met his eyes, then looked past him.

"Bones, can you give us a moment?"

"Yeah." McCoy glared at Spock, who did not take it personally. He recognized the depths and shadings of McCoy's patented ill-humor. "Don't tire him out; no matter what he thinks," and now a different glare was leveled at the patient, "he's still not ready to get back in the chair." He left the room and the door slid closed behind him.

As soon as the door was closed, Jim let slip the facade he'd been holding for the doctor; he almost faded into the bed. "Bones and Spock -- other Spock -- told me that you were here almost every day. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Jim," Spock replied. 

"And...thank you for...before." Jim's brow was as troubled as his voice. "For...you know."

"Again, you are most welcome." Spock picked up the uncomfortable chair from its corner and moved it nearer the bed. He sat down; he was still very tired. It was entirely possible that he was getting old. "May I tell you a story, Jim?"

"You're not gonna put it straight in my head again, are you?"

Spock didn't -- quite -- smile. "Not this time."

"Oh, good. 'Cause the last time wasn't as much fun as it might have been. What's your story about?"

Spock considered. "Friendship. Family. Revenge."

"Oh, the usual stuff, then." Kirk's voice was impish, his eyes sparkling.

"Indeed," Spock agreed gravely. "Most human stories begin with 'once upon a time,' but this one begins with a book. You may even have read it; it's title is _A Tale of Two Cities_ , and it is by the Earth writer Charles Dickens. This particular book was given as a birthday present...."

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same not-quite-alternate-'cause-how-do-we-know-that-it-didn't-happen universe as my story ["Brothers."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/310620) Just in case you were wondering where Sybok came from.
> 
> This is a fan work; no infringement is intended and no profit will be had hereby.


End file.
